


the bridge between us

by modernpatroclus



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M, discussions of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernpatroclus/pseuds/modernpatroclus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you ever bed a woman before, Patroclus?” Achilles slows a bit at the question. It came from Briseis, and Achilles knows he was not meant to hear it. He only had because he is just approaching the pair on the beach, where Patroclus is giving Briseis language lessons.</p><p>Achilles feels a stab of suspicion. He has seen the way Briseis watches Patroclus, though she knows they are together. But he has also seen the way Patroclus looks at her. It never revealed a hint of wanting, as his gaze for Achilles always does.</p><p>So Achilles recovers himself, confident in thinking he knows the answer. He waits, still out of sight, for the topic to change before announcing himself.</p><p>But there is a beat of hesitant silence before Patroclus says, “Once.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the bridge between us

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this forever ago so if it sucks i can't remember???
> 
> title comes from "talk me down" by troye sivan

“Have you ever bed a woman before, Patroclus?” Achilles slows a bit at the question. It came from Briseis, and Achilles knows he was not meant to hear it. He only had because he is just approaching the pair on the beach, where Patroclus is giving Briseis language lessons.

Achilles feels a stab of suspicion. He has seen the way Briseis watches Patroclus, though she knows they are together. But he has also seen the way Patroclus looks at _her._ It never revealed a hint of wanting, as his gaze for Achilles always does.

So Achilles recovers himself, confident in thinking he knows the answer. He waits, still out of sight, for the topic to change before announcing himself.

But there is a beat of hesitant silence before Patroclus says, “Once.”

Achilles’ balance falters, for perhaps the first time since infancy, if even then. It is only the sand, silent underfoot, that saves him from being heard.

“Rather, a woman bed me,” Patroclus clarifies, arousing confusion in Achilles and curiosity in Briseis.

“Somehow, I cannot see it happening any other way with you.” Her tone is light, but Achilles hears a slight undertone of disappointment. He knows Patroclus does not notice. His beloved has always been mostly oblivious to his own effects on people, a side effect of spending half his life next to a demigod for a companion.

Patroclus huffs a quiet laugh, and that is the end of the conversation.

Before one of them turns and discovers Achilles’ presence, he turns silently and runs down the beach, the way he had come from.

* * *

He sits by the sea, a secluded area much like the one he had just found Patroclus and Briseis at. Only now, he is alone with his thoughts.

He thinks back to their time in Scyros, before Deidameia had been sent away. It was not long, and Achilles does not recall much interaction between her and Patroclus – other than when he would get Achilles’ attention for her, which she would respond with a look of haughty indifference. He cannot imagine when she had been able to lure him into her chamber.

The thought wracks him with a shiver, and he does not know how to feel about the situation other than dislike. Patroclus had said she bed him, so he could not have wanted it much beforehand. But Achilles cannot help the feeling of betrayal at Patroclus keeping it from him.

For his part, he ignores the slight feelings of jealousy, because Patroclus had gazed at Deidameia with even less desire than Briseis. Besides, if Patroclus had not wanted it – and that is Achilles’ main fear, he realizes – jealousy would have no place in the situation, only comfort.

He resolves to ask Patroclus about it that evening when they retire for bed.

* * *

While Patroclus climbs into their bed, Achilles hesitates by his armor, feigning cleaning it until he feels Patroclus’ eyes on his back. Before he turns, Achilles steels himself with a deep breath for the weighted conversation he is about to begin. He joins Patroclus on the bed, but instead of lying next to him, he sits cross-legged in front of him, a foot of space between his and Patroclus’ knees, who has moved to mirror his position.

Patroclus reaches for Achilles’ hands. “You look worried. What is it?” he asks, only concern for Achilles.

Achilles’ voice is small, boyish, when he speaks. “Today, when you were with Briseis…” He trails off, but Patroclus nods encouragement. “I went to see you, but before you knew I was there, I heard–”

Patroclus’ intake of breath cuts him off.

“Achilles, I can explain.” He is frantic, guilt and panic rushing his words together. Achilles squeezes Patroclus’ hands in his, and Patroclus falls quiet.

“Patroclus, I am not angry with you. But will you tell me what happened?”

Patroclus releases a shaky breath, closing his eyes at the memories Achilles is asking him to relive. He hates himself for it, remembering too well his own two forced experiences. But he bites his tongue, remembering how much better he had felt after he had told Patroclus about them.

It is cruel to make Patroclus remember what had happened so long ago, that he had likely repressed, but they both need the words to finally be said.

“In Scyros, with Deidameia,” he begins slowly, opening his eyes and watching Achilles for a reaction. Achilles keeps his face blank, only nodding at the information he had already surmised. “It was her last day before her confinement. You had gone to see your mother, I think. She summoned me to her chamber, and…”

Patroclus trails off, the slightest of shivers wracking his frame. The pain, so well contained, is all too familiar coming from Patroclus.

Achilles has never been run through with a sword, far too great of a fighter; but in that moment, he imagines how it would feel, the physical agony. He does not think it would even come close to this.

A memory resurfaces then, a night near Deidameia’s departure (though, he admits, he cannot recall the exact timing). Achilles had risen early, and visited his mother. When he had returned, Patroclus was not in the room. Achilles had still had to pose as a woman then, and so he and Patroclus had to spend most of their days apart, Achilles doing women’s duties and Patroclus having to spend his days how Lycomedes bid him.

But on that day, Patroclus had been absent until bed, and when he had returned, had looked ruffled and withdrawn. He had not acted or spoken differently, but his eyes had betrayed his mental dissonance, and Achilles had been gentler with, more praising of him that night, because he had so badly wanted that haunted look to leave Patroclus’ eyes.

Achilles’ heart fills with anger at Deidameia for her double vengeance: she managed to hurt Patroclus by what she’d done, as she had so wanted to when he had arrived and ruined her marriage; and she hurt Achilles, at whom her anger was truly directed for not wanting her, by hurting Patroclus.

Rage burns in Achilles, fierce and unyielding, of a kind he has not known before. Patroclus should have never had to suffer because of him. But he had, and he has hidden it for so long. He is seized by fear, then, sudden and as relentless as the rage.

“What else haven’t you told me?” he asks, placing his hands gently but urgently on Patroclus’ arms.

Patroclus’ forehead crinkles in confusion. “What else? Achilles, I have not kept anything else from you. I only hid this because I knew it would upset you,” he says, worry lacing his voice.

Achilles is upset, but not _with_ Patroclus, which he knows Patroclus is thinking. He reaches for Patroclus, slowly, and gently cups his cheek in one hand. He uses his other arm to pull himself forward, closer to Patroclus, until they are sitting nearly chest to chest. “But doing so hurt you. How could you think that a better solution? I do not want you to have to bear any burdens alone.”

Patroclus closes his eyes and swallows, and when he speaks, his voice is rough. “Once the prophecy is fulfilled, I will have to.”

Achilles sighs, guilty. “Patroclus, when I die, I do not want you to isolate yourself. Promise me you will not,” he insists, raising his palm. Patroclus meets him halfway, unthinkingly, before he starts to pull back.

“Achilles–”

Achilles presses their palms together and intertwines their fingers before Patroclus can put his hand down. “No, Patroclus. I need to know that after I die, you will live.” Patroclus looks down, and in that gesture, Achilles knows exactly what Patroclus had been planning to do after Achilles’ death.

“ _Patroclus.”_ It is as broken as he has ever sounded. Patroclus looks up. “Please do not follow me before you are meant to,” he pleads, knowing how much he is asking of. If the prophecy was for Patroclus’ death, Achilles knows he would hardly be far behind.

But Patroclus cannot die, not young, and especially not because of Achilles.

Patroclus must see the desperation on Achilles’ face, because he slowly nods. “I will not do anything rash,” he promises.

Achilles breathes out, relieved, and rests his forehead against Patroclus’. Patroclus closes the gap between their mouths, and it is an extension of their vow and a show of comfort in one. Achilles pulls away, but he does not go far. He moves to Patroclus’ side and lays down next to him, and opens his arms for Patroclus to move into. Patroclus blows out the last burning lamp, leaving only slivers of moonlight to filter into the tent.

When they are settled, Achilles whispers, “Tell me about it.”

Patroclus doesn’t need to ask what he means. And because he knows that he needs to, Patroclus tells Achilles about his forced time with Deidameia, how it still haunts his dreams on occasion. He recounts it with far less details than Achilles had, the memories graciously faded with time. But every grieved word he had refused to say before, every comforting touch he had never received for it – they are overdue, but they are given.

After he finishes, Patroclus falls asleep against Achilles’ chest.

His breathing has returned to the normal, relaxed rhythm he affects in sleep, albeit slower tonight with exhaustion. But the too-quick, panicked gasps from earlier are long gone, and Achilles lets himself succumb to sleep, to the lull of Patroclus’ undisturbed breathing.


End file.
